


ready to fall

by Cancelpocalypse



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Jjbek, M/M, insp Sasha Sloan: Fall bc she inspires me to cry every day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29300964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cancelpocalypse/pseuds/Cancelpocalypse
Summary: Even if JJ apologized to Otabek, he doesn't think it would make a difference for the years they've been friends (from the warmest to the coolest colours of the term).But the least he can do is call.----inspired by Fall by Sasha Sloanbut don't worryit has a happy ending
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Jean-Jacques Leroy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	ready to fall

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i did ragequit my other ao3 account but i still been writing some jjbeks c: I'm still proud of my pacific rim fic but at least now i purged the victuuri and otayuri from my name, let it only be jjbek from now on XD

Otabek’s just booting up his laptop in his still sparsely-furnished room when his phone rings.

Life’s been a bit crazy for him lately. New rink means a new home. His second overseas rink. His sister just graduated, so there was that, not long after Worlds. Of course, he has new programs for the new season, and he has added a few more things to his to-learn list than may be possible to actually learn. (Wouldn’t a flip be cool? No, not a technical jump, an actual flip on ice.)

And then there’s college. He feels the pressure to finally choose something instead of just dabbling in online courses, growing an eclectic garden of credits, but he still doesn’t have the faintest clue what. He’s mostly of the mind that you can get things done a lot faster by teaching yourself. Most things. Some things . . . some things, like putting on a show instead of skating clean for the judges . . . some things, like flexibility, like a quad sal . . . for those things, he’s needed help.

Then there’s the huge implication of _what next_ that comes with committing to a 4-year-plus degree, something that insinuates he can’t do skating forever. It’s true, he can’t. But it’s still nasty to think about when you’re only 19.

The call is from Quebec; the caller ID says JJ. Otabek has already decided if JJ wants him in his wedding party he’ll say yes. They’re friends enough for that. Hopefully JJ won’t say he has to wear a red suit or something. Otabek doesn’t like wearing red. Or, a silver suit, like that Gala atrocity last year. Hanging on the rack it would be an atrocity, at least. JJ made it not-so-bad.

Speak of committing when you’re 19, huh. Wouldn’t catch Otabek putting a ring on, not yet. Not that he’s found anyone either. Or if he thought so once, it’s a faded dream now.

“Hi JJ,” Otabek says coolly, swiping the phone icon and pausing a second to allow the call to connect before speaking. His (peer’s? friend’s? competitor’s?) name stopped being _Jean_ a long time ago. Now it’s been _JJ_ for longer than it has been _Jean._ It become _JJ_ even before the Canadian got engaged.

“Hey, Beks,” the answer comes. JJ won’t ever stop calling him nicknames, Otabek knows. That’s just how he is. Otabek doesn’t like that. He would like words to mean something. To be a function of something.

JJ doesn’t continue, so Otabek obliges.

“How are the wedding preparations going?” While he holds the phone up, Otabek types in his laptop passcode.

“It’s . . . well, uh, look, I didn’t call to talk about that,” JJ’s fuzzy voice says as Otabek puts him on speaker and tosses the phone on the duvet.

“Oh? What, then?” Otabek says. The laptop screen welcomes him and the loading sign scrolls against his lock screen wallpaper. It’s a photo of a lake somewhere around Revelstoke, when Otabek and JJ and a few of his siblings and friends made the Vancouver trip. That was a while ago. Otabek had been 16 then. Funny how he hasn’t changed it in a few years.

“Look . . . Beks . . .” JJ’s voice trails.

Otabek pays more attention to his phone. Something’s up for JJ to be at a loss for words.

“Look, well, I just wanted to talk to you – I guess, like cause I got some free time now and – well – I mean I haven’t – I’ve been thinking – it would be nice to catch up – I guess,” JJ blurts.

Otabek frowns for a moment. “What does this have to do with the wedding?”

“ _Merde,_ Beks, it’s not about the wedding!” JJ’s tone rises. Then a static sigh. “Well maybe it is. Not really. Kind of. I have time, I got time, I just wanted . . . “

Absently, Otabek double-taps the FruityLoops icon on his desktop. “JJ, I’m in the States right now and I just moved in,” he says.

“I need to talk to you, you especially,” insists JJ, “I just want to and everyone wants answers from me, I don’t want to talk to them, I’m not going to because it’s _my_ life and I just need to get away, I need to get out of here and I want to talk to _you_.”

Otabek blinks. He’ll probably only get answers if he says yes to whatever vague request JJ is making. Does he care enough to know what’s going on with JJ? He doesn’t: that’s the correct answer. But he’s always had a soft spot, maybe more than a soft spot, for the man. The homework is to shrink that soft spot down small, and this would do the opposite.

Before he can form an answer, JJ adds, quietly,

“And I wanted to say sorry.”

“For what?” Otabek says; it comes out sharp with surprise.

“I – can I visit? That’s what I mean. Can I go there? I can get my own room but just tell me what side of the city you’re –”

“Yes,” Otabek cuts him off.

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Thursday?”

“Sure. I’ll send you my address.”

“OK. I’ll let you know when I book a flight.”

Something is definitely off for JJ to be dumping money on a last-minute flight a couple months before a wedding.

“Sounds good.”

“You’re the best, Beks,” JJ says.

“I know,” Otabek says. He can’t help a half-smile. It hurts at the same time. JJ’s said that to him many times before. Before Otabek realized nothing would ever happen, before JJ’s wide grin became a glaring wall. What was his homework again? Ah, forget that.

“Thanks,” JJ says, and hangs up.

Otabek tries for several fruitless minutes to work on the track at hand but his mind is so full now it’s really no use. He goes to bed on time, though training doesn’t start till Monday and he could stay up if he wanted.

* * *

As Otabek goes about setting up his new living situation the next few days, he turns the matter of JJ over in his head so much it almost feels like a lump of coal igniting, getting curiously warmer and warmer. He texts JJ his address and JJ texts Otabek his flight time, with a _thanks_ and a couple emojis. Otabek wonders if he should ask for the flight number. On Wednesday, he gives in and asks. JJ provides the number. Otabek subscribes for text updates.

_Otabek: I’ll pick you up, I have a rental car for now._

_JJ: are you sure? really its fine i can get an Uber or smth_

_Otabek: Yeah it’s fine._

Otabek would have offered JJ a stay at his apartment. But it would be rude to invite someone to his empty spare room, and the makeshift “couch” in the living room is just some pillows on the two unopened boxes of seasonal clothing Otabek doesn’t need yet. No options. He told JJ as much.

More and more, Otabek suspects the wedding is off – not forever, but postponed somehow. Against his better judgement, he does an internet search. No recent news of the Leroy skating empire. It’s up to his gut in this one. He really hopes JJ is not going to ask him for help with his fiancée. JJ’s cryptic, left-field apology didn’t really suggest that that was where he was going, at least.

There’s a slight wind blowing when Otabek leaves for the airport, but it’s still warm at 6:30 p.m. One article in one of those unopened boxes will be useful if it gets chilly: an artifact from the same era as his lock screen wallpaper. And now he must go and procure another artifact; a strange sort, almost as if JJ were a living, breathing time traveller from the past.

It’s not that they haven’t seen each other in the in-between years. But they haven’t really _seen_ each other. They haven’t talked. Not more than cursory chat, and not without Bella on JJ’s arm. Not just the two of them.

The anticipatory jump of Otabek’s heart is occluded by the start of the engine as he slides in the driver’s seat and pushes the ON button.

__________

As Otabek pays for his costly parking spot, he tracks back to when he last saw JJ in the flesh. It was a few good months ago, and then it was only across the room and in the hall as they traded places on the ice. Otabek had been hanging out with Yuri most of the time at that competition and had (on purpose, somewhat) not engaged with JJ.

The airport is big enough that it is not clear when a certain flight arrives; people travel through the halls and wings of the airport in constant trickles and streams, the restaurants busy at this time and lineups for the fast food shops steady. A local artist plays guitar and sings; Otabek drops some yet unfamiliar US cash in her case as he passes. He makes his way to the area JJ should exit from, given his gate. Several other waiting friends and family in the area stir and then the passengers start coming through the doors. Otabek sips his coffee. His other hand fiddles impatiently with the car keys in his pocket despite himself.

JJ is taller than most of the others filtering out the sliding doors and he's immediately unmistakable. Dark hair in an undercut that looks a little past due for another fade on the sides, light red jacket, lean as always, stride usually long and strong but today it seems less so than Otabek remembers. He tows a singular carry-on, eyes as blue as Otabek has them stored in his mind's eye.

Otabek waits to wave until JJ gets closer, but they lock eyes first and JJ gives him a dip of the chin, a lift of the lips in a greeting smile that Otabek can't help but reflect as he redirects his path.

"Hey, Beks! Hope you weren’t waiting long! You look good, how's it going with the transplant to the States?" JJ starts as he's a few feet away and finishes as he draws up to Otabek.

Otabek's breath hitches for a second as JJ's eyes flick over him for a moment and there's some question of whether or not a hug is appropriate, forming in an unspoken language as they stand. Instead Otabek turns alongside JJ, gives him a friendly slap on the back (arm angles up for the few inches JJ has on him), not drawing out the silent question too long. They start walking, JJ's carry-on click-clacking on the tiles.

"Good, it's definitely different . . . food is cheap, though . . ." Otabek answers JJ's question in some details. He doesn’t feel any more steady now that JJ's here in the flesh. Of course the second thing out of JJ's mouth had to be _you look good._ Again, Otabek wishes words meant something with JJ. And JJ looks good too, if tired, somehow -- still smiling and outgoing as ever, though, that's JJ Style. JJ responds to whatever Otabek said in reply, asking more questions about the move, occupying the conversation till they make it to Otabek's parked car, a Prius.

JJ's pulling on the handle of the hatchback. "Is it locked?"

Otabek presses the button on his fob and it pops open, slowly lifts. JJ swings his carry-on into the trunk space, then pulls on the hatch to get it down but it resists him.

"There's a button," Otabek instructs and comes over, up a bit on the balls of his feet to reach under the latch but JJ's easily the height for it and finds the button first. The hatchback closes by itself.

"Fancy," JJ remarks as their hands sort of come down together. "Yours forever or a lease?"

At the same moment Otabek's gaze has gone to JJ's hand, his left hand, and out of shock he takes it and holds it up to verify.

There's no ring.

He drops JJ's hand.

"Ah . . . leased," he answers. JJ looks away. “Um . . . you can sit shotgun,” Otabek says, and they climb in. JJ has to pull the seat back to fit his legs comfortably in the passenger side. There’s even something about that small action that makes Otabek think like … like he used to, when they were younger.

“Look – uh – I don’t want to bother you, like too much about – stuff,” JJ says as Otabek starts the car. “I guess you might have suspected or something but yeah . . . “ he trails as Otabek pulls out and the GPS, with JJ’s place already input, starts directing their path.

“No, it’s fine. You’re already here,” Otabek says, giving it some thought. _It_ is the way JJ didn’t jerk his hand away, his long fingers bare now of any sign of devotion to another . . . how JJ was beside him of his own volition. “So is the wedding not happening at all?”

“No,” JJ says. That’s all he says for a little while. He looks out his window. Otabek drives. It is the strangest thing to have JJ so quiet. Otabek is almost worried.

Otabek merges onto the freeway. “Do you want to get supper first?”

“I actually ate before I boarded, thanks, I’m good,” JJ says.

“Sorry,” he adds a few moments later.

“It’s fine,” Otabek says.

JJ makes some small talk about the city – _looks nice –_ and asks Otabek if he’s been to the rink yet, what’s it like, before they get to his airBnB. Not much else passes between them.

When Otabek parks (looks like a decent place to stay, older neighbourhood, neat lawn) JJ hops out and Otabek opens the trunk. He gets out and joins JJ at the sidewalk out front as JJ yanks his carry-on out and presses the button to close the hatchback, turns towards the house and rolls his shoulders.

“Know any good places to run?” he asks Otabek.

Otabek nods. “I found a good trail around the reservoir close to my place. About 3k.”

“I picked something sort of close-by to your suite, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, if we wanted to meet there you could walk there in . . . 20, 30 minutes?”

“Run and breakfast tomorrow?” JJ asks.

Otabek nods. He sees JJ glance down and swallow hard. It looks like he might apologize for nothing again.

He does. “Sorry I’m such a downer, I just – I’m like – everything’s changed. Like I don’t even know, Beks. I don’t even know – yeah. Yeah, but thanks for letting me visit.”

“It’s honestly good to see you, JJ,” Otabek says, trying to be a little more warm. Seems like JJ needs it. At this, JJ looks at Otabek, almost hopefully, like he doesn’t really believe it. That look hurts a little. So Otabek steps in closer and wraps his arms around JJ, and JJ reciprocates. He’s warm and it’s been a long time since they were even this close. It’s different, but he still smells like JJ and there’s some kind of rush that goes through Otabek from his head to toes and fingertips as he inhales. Has JJ grown a bit more? He must have, because Otabek definitely has to tippy-toe to dock his chin (lightly) on JJ’s shoulder. The broadness of his shoulders leaves no hint of _16-years-old_ anymore, either.

It’s a quick embrace, but the way JJ half-smiles after is easy. “K, see you tomorrow Beks.”

Otabek nods and gets back in the car, checks that JJ’s opening the door successfully, shifts to drive and pulls away. He holds himself together till he’s back in the rear driveway at his place. But when the engine’s off, he rubs his temples and leans back for a few quiet moments, takes a few breaths.

Yeah, he _used_ to have a thing for JJ. And it’s supposed to be over. JJ practically forced him to make it so. In no way is he ready for the _being over_ to be over, but _fuck._ It was just a quick _good-to-see-you-again_ hug. _Fuck._

That’s about all his thoughts consist of for the rest of the evening.

__________

Neither of them are out of practice. They circle around the reservoir at a fast enough clip there’s not much room to talk. The sun’s risen but the light is still beautiful on the lake surface, field on the west side and apartments stack on the east; they pass in and out of blocks of shade cast by the buildings. 

They talk a bit about the news, a bit about Otabek’s sister; Otabek asks after a couple of JJ’s siblings (the ones he can remember the most about); that’s it.

Otabek offers for JJ to shower at his place after the run, so he does, and Otabek showers, then they’re off to breakfast.

And they don’t really talk about anything Important, but JJ seems to be more at ease every minute. Otabek enjoys the company, truly, he does. He doesn’t know if JJ’s more mellow with age, or environment, or the recent circumstances, or maybe all three. At 9:10, JJ’s mostly through his bacon-eggs-and-hashbrowns, a glass of water on his side of the booth, Otabek with black coffee as usual.

“Did you have anything planned today?” JJ asks.

“You’re visiting, of course I didn’t plan anything,” Otabek laughs.

“I’m flattered,” JJ grins. “Hey, how about showing me the new rink?”

So they do.

__________

They end up lacing up for fun and skating around. Otabek gives JJ snips of his new programs, which JJ mostly lauds: a few questions here and there. Otabek almost feels like he’s oversharing but it’s too natural to stop. JJ’s feedback is interestingly insightful; in some places, he has a different take on the music and how it should be interpreted. Not that Otabek agrees much, but JJ does have a point wherever he mentions something.

Eventually Otabek’s gone through most of the elements he’s figured out so far. He circles around to where JJ is tightening his laces at the side.

“Should’ve brought my own skates,” JJ mutters.

Otabek checks his phone on top of the boards. They’ll have to clear out in ten or so.

“How about your short?” he asks JJ. “You probably at least have the track by now?”

JJ leans on the boards. Puts him about eye-level with Otabek. “No, actually. I – I don’t know if I have the guts to skate this season. Like, not after this.” He raises his hand, the fourth finger without the ring. “I was mostly doing the business degree to run the clothing line with Bella, and that seems kinda pointless now. And if that’s pointless, maybe I should find a career that’s – like, something I want to do, but I don’t know what that is, so maybe I should take a break – but I don’t have anything else to my name other than – well, skating, and I guess I had Bella . . . God, Beks, like – “

He huffs a sigh and rests his forehead against his palm, propped up on the boards, looking across the rink. Otabek admires his profile: brow, nose, lips, every inch. But he’s held back.

JJ turns his head to look at Otabek.

“Love,” he says. “What is it?”

Otabek’s eyebrows rise. “There are different kinds,” is all he can say on the spot, because he’s learned about them in GRST 202.

“Which ones do you need?” JJ says.

Otabek half-shakes his head. JJ looks at him like there has to be answer.

“We were on a date,” JJ says. “Went for a walk. It was – I loved her. I -- think I love her. I thought I did. We had just got engaged, like, a week ago. And she leaned to kiss me and – I turned away. Like straight up avoided. Pro move, right?” he laughs, sounding like there’s something stuck in his throat, looking down at the ice. “And she was like, we’re engaged, don’t you think it’s fine, and I was like yeah, but – I don’t know -- I still felt like – like it was rude to her or – like it wasn’t right. And she was like, something about me being such a gentleman – and then that was that for a while. But I think she knew something was wrong from that time on.”

JJ takes a struggling breath. “She’s so good, Beks. She was just like – you know, bringing it up, like, ‘Aren’t you looking forward to getting married?’ And I was. Because everyone was like, saying it was the next step. It was the good thing to do. But she could tell in how I said _yes,_ I guess. She was like, she said – ‘do you really love me, J?’ and –" JJ’s blue eyes are wet now, back of hand quickly scrubs would-be tears away. “And I said yes again – but she knows me, Beks – she knows the facts – she said, ‘you don’t want to kiss me’, and I said no because that was the truth and she was like, ‘do you think I’m ugly?’ which was a dumb question because she’s gorgeous – so I was like no of course not, and I told her I was just trying to do the right thing and she was like ‘so what’s going to happen when we’re married? you’ll change all of a sudden?’”

Now JJ’s choking back tears, he recoups for a scarce moment.

“Then I think I realized --.” He looks at Otabek for a moment, eyes glassy with tears. “She wanted something to change between us, and I didn’t. She needed some kind of – of love from me, and I don’t have it, Beks, and I’m never going to have it.

I told her that it just seems wrong. And that I respect her. And it’s because I respect her. But then she straight up was like, do you not even want to – like, be intimate. I mean we never have. Because, y’know we’re not married yet – but – I mean I didn’t say something very good, I said like if we wanted kids we’d have to be – which is true! but I could just see, on her face, it was like I’d stabbed her. Lied to her, for years. She’d trusted me, she thought I was just being honourable – I mean I was! I was trying, Beks, I thought I was doing the right thing – but then she gave her ring back to me. It’s like – God, Beks, she’s gone. I’m gone. We’re – .” He sighs. “And everyone wants to know why. Maman and Papa. Siblings. Church friends. They know the ring’s gone. I hurt her, Beks. I hurt her bad. And I didn’t know I was setting her up, not really, I didn’t . . . didn’t think of it. I just -- know I could never. It’s because I respect her, I swear! I wouldn’t ever do anything with her because it’s just – wrong!” JJ says, almost pleading. “I don’t know! Am I crazy? Am I crazy, Beks? Like – it just – I talked to Mathieu about it, that’s all, just a bit and he told me it’s not wrong when you’re married but h _ow is marriage supposed to change anything it’s just a piece of paper_ —" JJ slams a fist on the boards and Otabek jumps. “I don’t understand, I don’t know why I can’t . . . But even if I could change – it’s over,” he says to Otabek. There’s a tear dripping down his cheek, and now it plops onto the boards. He sniffs hard and rubs his nose. Otabek jerks to action, moves rinkside and ruffles in his bag for tissues, hands JJ one.

JJ blows his nose unceremoniously. “Thanks, you carry these all the time?”

“Something about the air pressure and humidity here, got a couple nose bleeds so far,” Otabek says. 

“Oh,” JJ says. He sits down on the wooden bench, red around his eyes and risen to his cheeks. Otabek joins him.

“Sorry for . . . all that. Now you know. Damn, did any of that make sense?” JJ says after a bit. “Doesn’t to me at least.”

“Yeah, I . . . I think I got the jist,” Otabek responds quietly. “You’re not crazy.”

“Sure about that,” JJ mutters in reply.

“If that’s how you feel, that’s how you feel,” Otabek says.

“Still, I suck,” JJ says.

Otabek sort of agrees, so he holds his tongue. He hates to break the conversation, because they’re near overdue to leave the rink, but on time, the juniors who have the ice booked are coming out of the aisle from the changerooms. JJ notices and they both get up without a word and head back to the changerooms themselves.

Nothing is said while they head back through and out to the skate rental shop (where no one was working, so Otabek took the liberty of nabbing a pair JJ’s size, and now replaces them while JJ waits in the foyer).

When he comes back out, JJ looks up at him, sitting on a bench beside upper-level windows to the rink.

“I came here to say sorry because I – feel like I might’ve done the same to you,” JJ says. His brow is set in determination.

Otabek stops in his tracks.

“Maybe you don’t believe that I’m sorry or maybe you don’t care because – like, it’s been a long time. I didn’t even think you’d have me over here to visit. I know we’re not friends like we used to be. And I’m glad that you’ve moved on and you’re here. I don’t know what it all meant when you were staying at our house and we were together a lot but, but I wanted to apologize for anything I might have done to you the same as I did to Bella and I’m sorry and I want to . . . to hear your side of it. So I can apologize proper for everything.”

Otabek blinks away the fog of surprise. There’s rising heat, a painful spike, in his chest. He finds himself with no words, only emotions that have been buried for some time now called to life by JJ’s invitation. His bag with skates in it dangles from one hand.

“Did you leave because of me?” JJ asks when Otabek can’t respond. His eyes are like glass that’s going to shatter.

“Yeah,” Otabek finally says.

“Why,” JJ says.

JJ doesn’t have the right to know why, Otabek thinks, self-defensively as he tries to quell the pain in his chest, unwanted turmoil stirring. He doesn’t get to know. Why should Otabek tell him? That question is a cliff, and Otabek could fall. So he turns, and he walks-almost-runs, towards the doors, outside, fury or fear in his step.

“Otabek!” JJ calls from behind him, and Otabek only picks up the pace. Down the stairs; ditches the bag; until he’s running.

The sky is blotted with clouds above, sunlight patching through; his shoes slap on concrete, and when he’s at the field beside the nearby school, they thud on the green grass.

“Beks! Wait! Beks!”

He wants his lungs to burn, melt away this mix of emotions. They start to. He knows JJ’s taller, faster if he wants to be; he doesn’t care.

The white goalposts start to blur; the colorful playground and brick building in the distance do as well. Why the fuck did he let JJ come here, give him a chance at finishing his stupid apology? JJ was simultaneously the best thing he’d ever had and the worst. Because he’d ruined it, when it seems now that he never even had a good reason to and instead he’d carried on blissful ignorance of himself and everyone who loved him the most and screwed them _both_ over. Fuck him! _Fuck_ him!

“ _Beka!_ ” JJ calls, one last time.

That’s a flash of searing light, going straight to his soul.

Otabek staggers to a halt and turns. JJ almost crashes into him. Otabek grabs his shirt.

“ _Fuck you_ ,” he says, but he’s so out of breath it’s a spitting sputter barely discernable. He shakes him and throws him on the ground; JJ doesn’t resist. Otabek’s almost gasping for breath. _Fuck you,_ he might be saying, or just thinking. His vision is still blurred. The curses blur. Maybe he would do better cursing fate and circumstance. He ignores the tears. He looks at JJ, on the ground, looking back at him, waiting for something. He tells his feet to keep going, walk away. But he can’t ignore JJ. He’s never been able to, really. Three years of his life, strung out, still held by a common thread. That’s why he said _yes_ and scrapped his personal homework, is it not?

“I’m not telling you why,” Otabek figures out at last. “You tell me. You tell me what you think. You said you didn’t know what it meant, when we were 16. But you came here, to talk to me. So _tell me_ ,” Otabek says, grits out. He’s hit on it. This is what he needs. This is the balm, the medicine.

JJ collects himself, slowly assembles, rises. till they’re toe-to-toe. Otabek glares up at him, heart pounding. He’ll be found, if JJ scales the cliff to meet him.

He watches JJ swallow. They both know everything, every detail. When Otabek snuck out and JJ blackmailed him into taking him along, and JJ spit out his beer because he didn’t like it. When Otabek let him listen to the music he made, and JJ praised it to no end – the music Otabek never let anyone hear. When JJ woke up in a panic attack, and Otabek tried to help. And after that: the sheepish request from JJ: _can I sleep with you?_ and how Otabek said yes, and how the alarm woke them up together most days thereafter. When JJ worked overtime with Otabek to get him his quad sal, and when he got it, how happy JJ was and how tight he hugged Otabek. When Otabek thought JJ was looking at him in the locker room, and could swear JJ would look away at the last moment.

When JJ would go out with Bella. When he’d spend time calling her, and then roll into bed with Otabek. When he’d go to church, and always bring her as his +1 to the volunteer events and social functions and festivals. When he’d introduce Otabek as his friend. Training at the same rink. Staying with the family. His buddy. JJ would take Bella to the new café in the evening; she’d come in for a while to visit with the Leroys, and JJ was at her beck and call the whole time. Then, she would go, and JJ and Otabek would head to bed, and JJ would never say anything to Otabek that meant anything. Knowing all these things, sometimes Otabek would stay awake late at night, even as JJ lay contentedly asleep back to Otabek’s chest, long legs all curled up. This: this hurt. More and more, until Otabek had to leave.

“I think . . . you liked me, and maybe more than that, or -- or started to,” JJ says, throat dry, so quiet it’s almost lost in the haphazard breeze. The words seem to etch into time itself, to Otabek. This might make up for all the things he’s said that never meant a thing. This might be sufficient. “And I used you,” JJ says. He looks down, choking up again. He shakes his head, starting to say something, but tears stop it short. “I --,” he tries again, “I’m sorry.”

There’s the beginning of a dizzying reprieve that begins to settle down through Otabek.

JJ blinks wet eyes open, looks at Otabek. Shakes his head a bit. “Please . . . you – you did, didn’t you--”

“Yeah,” Otabek says, swift with the truth. “I started to.” _Started to love you?_ It's been so long, hard to remember what that feeling had truly been like -- memories strung up and cinched in the tension of the past few years. Now, the reprieve, the relief, percolates through every cell of his body, it seems. He relaxes.

“I’m sorry,” JJ says again.

“I forgive you,” Otabek says.

“Thanks,” JJ says.

They stand for a while longer. Otabek exhales deeply.

“I never kissed Bella because to me, it’s wrong,” JJ says. “But I never . . . kissed you, because I was afraid.”

This is some kind of hope.

“I still am,” JJ says, swallowing. “Even if I’m not crazy.”

“You’re not,” Otabek says softly.

One of the corners of JJ’s mouth starts to turn into a sad smile. “I mean – “ he seems to jerk himself out of the quiet moment – “— I know you’ve moved on. You and Yuri –”

“Oh, please,” Otabek laughs, startled. “I love how Yuri hates your guts, but Yuri’s a kid still.”

“I mean, we’re all kind of kids.”

“I’m ready to not be,” Otabek says. He thinks of falling. “I’m ready,” he says.

“Yeah,” JJ says. “Me too.”

Otabek leans in and up; JJ’s eyes are wide but they are open as oceans. So Otabek closes the last bit of distance, and JJ doesn’t pull away when their lips meet.

__________

Otabek doesn’t need to furnish the empty spare room or buy a more functional couch to accommodate them both, after all.

“Why do you insist on being the little spoon,” Otabek mutters.

“’Cause, it’s really comforting,” JJ murmurs. Back to Otabek’s chest, curled up. JJ’s fast asleep in good time.

And tonight, nothing keeps Otabek awake either. 


End file.
